Zorro on a Horse
by LuluizEmo
Summary: "I saw your write how many days in. So...how many?" He asked, staring at the blunt cover of my journal. "4956." I stated. "No way, it's only been like seven years!" I looked up at him. "For you." He shook his head. "So how long is that? I'd say 10, 11 years?" I shrugged. "Try 15. Going on 16." CarlxOC ON HIATUS


I grabbed the mane of my horse, pulling lightly enough to get me on and not hurt him. I clicked with my tongue and we were off. I named him Louis, after an old dead friend. Lost him when I was 8, to this shitty fucking thing. I'm 19 now, 15 years with this apocalypse shit. I've seen people die more times than you have. Currently, I've counted about 167. I have a special calendar, marked with page numbers, which I put in my journal. I keep track of weather, what time I woke up, what I scavenged, where I went, who I met, how many I killed, and how many days in. 4955. Ugh. Then I just write a brief summary of the day. Suddenly, I heard voices. Not rough, slurry, drunk ones. Sober, friendly, clear ones.

"God damn, when I get back..." It muttered. It was a male, a redneck, I assumed. I felt Louis tense and brushed his mane to calm him down.

"Shush, okay?" I whispered.

"Huh. Anyone here?" I saw the man through the trees. I cursed to myself, tightened my bandana around my nose and mouth and adjusted my hat. I started to take out my gun, but it fell and snapped a twig. The man looked at me. "Who the fuck are you?"

"Why should I tell you?" I said, loudly enough for him to hear.

"Can you at least tell us your name?" Another man came out, he looked like a sheriff.

"...Marzia." He nodded.

"You can come back with us...you just gotta answer a few questions."

"Now?"

"Yes. Can I ask you where you're from?"

"Italy originally, but, some stupid island off the coast of here."

"How many people have you killed?"

"...Um...240, estimated. But that's with 15 years."

"So, you were a killer before all this?"

"'Before all this', I was 4, so yea, I was a killer when I was 4 because that just makes _so much_ sense."

"I'll take that as a no."

"Good choice." I muttered.

"What do you mean 15 years?"

"You guys seriously have no idea what's happening? Where do you think this virus started? My island. 15 years ago. It just spread here when I was 16. I came when I was 17, and there was more of this shit, but I couldn't go back."

"How can we trust you?'

"You need me. Trust me, I'm more experienced then you." I took out my gun, and without even glancing at my target, I shot down the undead freak behind me. "You need me," I repeated. "more than I need you."

~~~Daryl's POV

Was it wrong to say this girl, this 19 year old girl, was totally crazy? She's a badass. And fifteen years. She was right. We need her.

"So where is your castle, my lord?" She asked with raised eyebrows.

"Not a castle, but close enough." Rick muttered. Rick had enough to deal with, really. He had a 18 year old son to deal with, and all those people from Woodbury, the whole prison to deal with. Too many times I said deal with, too many things.

"Where you guys holed up?"

"Prison."

"West Central Prison? Hm, my dad went there...homocide. It's in the family." She joked...I hope.

"So...what's your story, Zorro?" I asked her after Rick had gone ahead.

"I don't have one. I grew up on that island, and for about 17 years I stayed there, before catching a ferry here and spending 2 years here."

"15 years, that's impressive." I muttered. She nodded once.

"It's been weird." She looked at the field of walkers Rick was wielding through and gave me a hand. I grabbed it and pulled myself up. She gave a click and the horse set off through the gates. All I could really see of her was her eyes, and only barely. Once we were inside she dismounted and took off her hat and bandana, letting out her long black hair. Her lips were full and she had an upturned nose. Her face was dotted with freckles, and she was surprisingly clean.

"Hi." Carl said, holding out his hand to her. She took it and smiled. "I'm...uh...Carl." He blushed and looked down.

"Marzia."

"You're really...pretty." She laughed.

"Get a grip kid." I rolled my eyes and walked off.

~~~Marzia's POV

That was the most awkward situation ever. I sat down on the fence, pulling out my journal, pen and calender. I wrote,

_Weather: Sunny, but a little cloudy near noon_

_Time woke up: 6:47_

_Scavenged: People, they live in a prison, also, some canned foods, corn, peaches, etc._

_Where traveled: West Central Prison_

_Who I met:_

I paused on that one, not sure how to answer. I'll just leave it for bed.

_How many I killed: 35 Undead, 1 Alive, 1,798 Undead, 241 Alive Total_

_How many days in: 4956, October 28th_

Brief summary, bed.

"So you keep a journal?" Carl asked. I nodded, marking '4956' on October 28th. That was the page number.

"I saw your write how many days in. So...how many?"

"4956."

"No way, it's only been like seven years!" I looked up at him.

"For you."

"So how long is that? I'd say 10, 11 years?"

"Try 15. Going on 16."

"Can I ask how old you are?"

"I don't know," He sat on the fence next to me. "Can you?" He chuckled. "I'm 19."

"18." I swung my legs, kicking one of the fence poles.

"You still hitting on the girl?" The man from the forest asked. I shook my head slowly, looking back down at the peice of metal in my hand.

"What's that?" Carl asked.

"A pendant. It's from my best friend. I really wish he was here." I sighed.

"I've lost people too...I know how it feels."

"How many?"

"10, maybe."

"167. Including him. And...we were so young...it was...scary."

_"Zia, we gotta get outta here!" He said frowning._

_"Yea, I know...let's go, then!" I grabbed his hand and kept my eyes trained on the door. His hand fell from mine as he was torn away from me. I glanced back._

_"Louis!" I stared in horror as I watched my best friend get ripped apart._

_"Marzia...go! Run! Try to get to America...you'll be safe there." I picked up the pendant he dropped and ran off, tears in my eyes._

"And the award for the worst death ever goes to..." I looked at what he was staring at, and watched as a tree branch snapped and fell on a few undead. I chuckled a bit and stared at him.

"Hey Carl!" A woman yelled from across the field. We waited for a few moments and she showed up in front of us. "Who's this?" She asked, eyeing me.

"Quinn, this is Marzia. Dad and Daryl brought her in today. Marzia, this is my dad's girlfriend, Quinn." I waved, the woman was very pretty, curly black hair, perfect teeth.

"Oh, hi." She smiled. and turned her attention to Carl. "So...your dad said that he needs you on watch. And you." She pointed at me. "Rick's coming to ask you some things." Carl and Quinn ran off, just as Rick approached me.

"Can I ask why...you...killed those people? 240 you said?"

"Wrong, 241, but close enough. They were drunk, high, or just fucked up. None of those include mercy deaths. All self-defense. Or mostly. There's one I killed...slaughtered him. He was scratched, and he didn't notice. Probably could've lived...but I don't take risks. When he turned around I put a bullet...through the back a' his skull. I know it was bad, I know, trust me. Like I said before, I don't take risks. After what happened to Louis...I just can't get attached anymore."

"Well, you seemed pretty friendly with Carl." Rick said, lifting himself up onto the fence.

"He's a nice kid."

"That he is." Rick shook his head. "About 5 years ago...his mother died. He...lost himself. He was mean, he killed a kid for christ's sake. But...he got better. I guess he realized that his attitude was stupid. Something like that. But, he seems to like you. Too much, I'd say. But, you seem level-headed. Don't let him fall again."


End file.
